Red String
by LolaJude164
Summary: AU: London 1885, and sleaze and prostitution rules the underworld... Ensemble fic.
1. I

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit,_  
_And the vermin of the world inhabit it,_  
_And its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit,_  
_And it goes by the name of London._  
_At the top of the hole sit the privileged few,_  
_Making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo,_  
_Turning beauty into filth and greed..._  
- Sweeney Todd

_London 1885_

There are two sides to every city, just as there is two sides to every coin.

The first is always the most seen, the happy, clean elite, those few people who are born with the silver spoon already in place in their mouths. Those who occupy the highest offices, strolling around the streets as though they owned them, and most indeed did. Those who have never seen a day without food, never gone cold, or hungry. The people that everyone "wishes to be."

But then there are the others, the lower classes. People cannot all be born equal, for who would the rich have to look down on, and who would the poor have to look up to? The poor, a people relegated to crawling the back-alleys of the city at night like rats, forced to become hard, and cruel, and ruthless in order to survive. They raised the children on pennies, having as many as they could, as most would not survive. Drug-addled, crazed, violent, knowing the only way they could live was to crawl their way to the top, to do whatever it took.

And the rich envy these people. They too are cruel and ruthless, but because of societal pressures must be quiet in their undertakings. It is impossible to be in a street, and not see someone with some deep dark secret, a murdered child, or secret affair. But the rich in London were even more ruthless than most. They craved depravity, needed it more than anything in the world, more than their many possessions could ever buy. They needed to release themselves.

And they did so the one place they could.

It was a dingy little room, tucked away in a squalid back-alley just off of the bustling city streets; the sort of place no one would even think of entering if they didn't have to. A river of festering sewage ran along the open gutter, putrid stench of feces mixing in with the miasma of cum and blood. A few children played along the road, eyes bright with mirth or fever, the uneducated wouldn't know the difference. Their clothes hung off their emaciated frames, bare feet encrusted with filth; shoes were a luxury for the people of the underworlds. Huddles of clothes gave rattling breaths, the sound of Death's eager hand encroaching, drawing the last struggles of life out from the despair. The area was a dank, fetid slum, home only to the lowest vagrants in the city, but hidden away behind an inconspicuous wooden door, lay the world that so entranced the rich man.

Inside, the room was bare, save for a small wooden table, and a pair of rickety chairs, in which two men sat. The taller of the two, a french man, smirked, and took a drag of the cigarette held delicately between long, yellowed fingers. Sitting across from him, Kiku Honda choked back a cough, as the smoke rose into the already musty air, attempting to cover his mouth as discretely as possible as his dark eyes watered. Lips pursed in what could generously be called a smile, the Frenchman gave him a long hard stare, bright eyes dancing over Kiku's small body, before stubbing his cigarette out on the desk, and flicking the butt lazily across the room.

"So," he drawled, bringing his claw-like hands together, eyes still roaming around Kiku's frame, like a tiger surveying his prey. "I understand that you are the one I've been waiting for all day."

Kiku fought for his face to remain passive."I presume so, sir," he replied, wisely deciding to say as little as possible to the imposing figure in front of him.

The man snickered, lazily lighting another cigarette from the candle on his desk, casting light over his surprisingly young face, and leaving the rest of the room in shadows. It dawned on Kiku that the room was almost _too_ atmospheric, as though someone had taken great pains to ensure the room was as intimidating as possible. Even the Frenchman seemed styled in order to fit the room, a battered yet clean waistcoat pulled over his over-large shirt, which could possibly once have been called blue, but was now more of a washed out grey colour. There was some sort of birdlike quality to the man, bright blue eyes small, yet sharp, standing out from his narrow face. He seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to look down his thin, sharp nose at people who were sitting at the same height as him."Kiku Honda? Yes, yes I would think you are. You're just as... exotic as I imagined."

A small shiver made it's way down Kiku's spine, as though someone had just poured freezing water down his shirt. It was like he couldn't control his own actions, hearing the leer that made its way into the man's voice. The oiliness of his voice just got under his skin, as though he was being violated. "Um... thank you, sir," he said, as diplomatically as possible. It wouldn't do to upset his new boss on his first day.

"From the east, are you?" The Frenchman asked, resting his sharp chin on his clasped hands.

"Yes, sir. I'm Japanese. I came to London a few years ago."

"My, my." The man was practically salivating now, the want in his voice was obvious. "Very exotic. It's as though I'm collecting a set."

There was silence. Kiku wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He half expected the man to start laughing, but the almost lustful look on his thin face gave away his seriousness. It disturbed Kiku to think that he was now just a possession of this man... that this man thought of him as an object, just another addition to his collection.

"So," the man said, seemingly oblivious to the emotion in the room. "What made you decide to become a prostitute?"

Kiku froze. Why on earth did the Frenchman want to know this, of all things? Surely it wouldn't affect the man's business? He had only just met this man, and, even if he was going to be his new boss, it probably wasn't the best idea to tell the truth in this situation. Kiku took a moment to compose himself before replying. "I apologise for my rudeness, sir, but I believe that is none of your business."

"Yes, yes, I suppose you're right," the Frenchman purred, running a hand through his flaxen hair. "I assume you are prepared for your stay here, at least?" He indicated the small bundle that contained all of Kiku's meager possessions.

"Yes, sir." His voice wavered slightly as he spoke.

The Frenchman smiled, obviously noticing the waver, and filing it away for future reference. It wouldn't do to show weakness around here, Kiku noted, especially not around this man. He wasn't a bird, he realised, he was a cat, lazy and sultry until he sprung. "You... understand what you're getting yourself into?"

A blink. Kiku didn't quite understand what the man meant. "Of course I do, sir."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, my dear," he said, although the tone of his voice told the smaller man that he should be very much worried. "It gives you wrinkles, and then you'll no longer be attractive, and then your life will be just worthless, won't it? You'll be fine; the men will eat you up." He chuckled slightly at his own joke.

He continued. "You will have your own room, of course, to hold your meetings in, and you will naturally be paid enough for food. Any transgressions will of course be punished in any way I see fit." He gave an almost feral grin. "You are permitted to leave during the day for a few hours, but we have eyes everywhere so I wouldn't recommend straying too far. I will of course have one of the elder boys... mentor you for a few weeks, I think, so you can find your feet."

Kiku nodded silently. Outwardly, he appeared placid, but inside his mind was reeling. What was he getting himself into? Why on earth had he decided that this was the best option for him? He had never felt so out of his depth in his life.

The Frenchman's demeanour changed all of a sudden. His sharp faced softened, and he smiled almost warmly, showing off rows of teeth the same colour as his fingernails. Even his cruel, blue eyes became slightly warmer; he appeared almost human to Kiku.

"There's no need to be afraid, dear. I'm not going to bite." Kiku very much doubted that. "We'll take care of you, believe me. We're all just one big happy..."

A shout interrupted him from behind a large curtain off to the side of the room, garbled words, in an accent he couldn't quite place. The Frenchman started, already halfway out of his seat, before his whole body seemed to relax, sagging slightly in what could either have been relief or happiness. As he rose from behind the desk, Kiku was startled to see how much taller the man was than him, though he was lanky rather than lean, unnatural in a way that spoke of malnourishment. The man crossed the room over to the curtain,a spring barely visible in his step, before he paused, seemingly remembering Kiku's presence, and turned back.

"I'll see that someone takes you down then, and gets you settled. Ah- Arthur!"

Kiku wheeled around, and came face to face with another man, who had just entered. He was of average height, possibly shorter than the Frenchman, but taller than Kiku's own small frame, although it may have been the way be carried himself that gave that impression. His sandy blond hair was windswept and untidy, green eyes hardened, yet inquisitive. Despite his lowly status, he dressed well, in a neat yet practical suit, waistcoat undone, and revealing his sunken chest, and he stood proud and regal in front of them, although the set of his shoulders displayed the weariness he was desperately trying to hide.

"Yes, Mr Francis?" he said, green eyes flashing angrily below his strangely large eyebrows.

As quick as the smile had arrived, it disappeared. 'Mr Francis'' face grew stony, as his eyes bore into Arthur's. A tense silence stretched throughout the room, as all three men remained still, attempting to stare each other down, the only noise being quite clattering from whoever was behind the curtain. When the Frenchman finally spoke it was flippant, as though his interest was no longer held by Arthur. As if he just didn't care. "Fresh meat here. See that he gets settled in. Hand him off to Yao, I'm sure he will have lots of fun."

Arthur's scowl deepened at the terse words, as he looked Kiku up and down, as though sizing him up, taking in his rather ragged dress. His eyes hovered a fraction of a second too long over Kiku's shoes, widening by a barely noticeable amount, before snapping back towards Francis.

"Of course, Mr Francis," he said, and Kiku could just make out the unconcealed malice dripping off his words. Mr Francis seemed to notice too, for he simply nodded shortly, before disappearing behind the curtain. There was silence in the room for a moment, before his head popped out once again.

"Oh yes, how rude, I almost forgot to introduce myself. My name is Francis Bonnefoy, but you may call me Mr Francis. I do hope we may become... better acquainted soon, hmm?" He gave a short laugh, before heading back into the room behind the curtain, not even giving Kiku the chance to reply.

Beside him, Arthur swore under his breath, hands fisted deep in his pockets. Slowly, and looking like this was the last thing he wanted to do, he turned to Kiku. "C'mon then," he said morosely, and gestured towards the darkened corner of the room. Kiku squinted, wondering exactly what he was meant to be looking at, before a glint of metal caught his eye, and he noticed the bare outlines of a wooden trapdoor in the gloom. Though the rest of the floor was grimy, and dust covered, this trapdoor was oddly clean, as though it was used regularly.

Pulling himself together, Kiku followed Arthur's retreating back, as Arthur wrenched open the trapdoor with a surprisingly strong arm, revealing a vast, dark chasm below. A single, ropey looking ladder descended into the chasm, disappearing into the black depths.

Kiku stared at the ladder, barely able to take his eyes off of it. "We're going down there?"

He could feel Arthur's eyes boring into the side of his head. "No, we're not, I'm just airing out the hinges- of course we're going down there. What one earth did you expect, _Her Majesty's _fucking _Opera House_?"

Arthur started climbing carefully down the ladder, muttering angrily to himself as he descended; it creaked quietly as he descended. Deciding it would probably be best not to reply, Kiku hurried after him, leaving enough distance, in case the thin ladder could not take the strain of their combined weight. He had no sooner put one foot on the rungs, when he heard Francis calling his name.

"Kiku?"

Kiku looked up at the voice, startled. Francis had pulled back the curtain once again, leaning in the doorway. Kiku stood where he was, still hearing Arthur's cursing below him, getting steadily quieter as it echoed. Smirking to himself, Francis' eyes glinted in the candlelight, as he purred softly.

"Welcome to the underworld."

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit,_  
_and it's filled with people who are filled with shit,_  
_And the vermin of the world inhabit it._


	2. II

'_Will you walk into my parlour?' said the spider to the fly,_  
_'__'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy,_  
_The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,_  
_And I've got many curious things to show when you are there.'_  
_'Oh, no, no,' said the little fly, 'to ask me is in vain,_  
_For whoever goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."_

The Spider and the Fly"_ Mary Howitt._

The noise of the bustling streets quietened the further down into the dark Kiku climbed. It was as if he was descending into a completely separate world; he felt almost as if he was falling, crashing down into another world he wasn't so sure he wanted to be in, like Alice, falling down her hole into Wonderland. But this wasn't going to be a wonderland. He was descending the dark ladder into hell, crawling down away from the hustle of everyday life, where no one would even notice he was gone. It was almost pitch black, and cold- getting colder, he realised, as his foot slipped, missing a rung, and he was forced to scramble to catch himself, palms burning from the fiction against the ropes as his face flushed.

A thump came from just below him, alerting him to Arthur's continued presence, and he glanced down to find two eyes staring back up at him, dancing in anger, even in the gloom, sour expression still omnipresent on the man's face. Kiku only reddened more, and he quietly thanked the hole for being so dark and saving his dignity from Arthur's steely gaze. Sheepishly, he scrambled the res of the way down the ladder, trying his best not to cower under Arthur's rock hard stare. Arthur merely sighed in reply, and spun on his heel, stomping moodily away down a small corridor, towards a barely noticeable glimmer of light. Stumbling to catch up, Kiku's foot caught on a small stone, and he tripped, letting out a particularly undignified squeal, and eliciting a glare from his companion. They continued the walk in silence; Kiku didn't dare to speak to the unwelcoming figure in front of him- Arthur was practically spitting at him. He'd never felt more unwelcome in his life. The light was getting brighter the further along the tunnel they trudged. Kiku's heart pounded in his ears, the steady beat like a timer, ticking down to the moment when his life would change forever.

Arthur stopped. More engrossed in his own thoughts rather than what was going on in front, Kiku had to bring himself up, before he slammed into the larger man's back. He had obviously already done something to anger the man, and he didn't want to risk anything else. They had reached a clearing, lit by a pair of torches bracketed on either side of a large wooden door, towering over both of them, as though it was attempting to scare them into submission. Arthur seemed to be unfazed by the intimidating manner, however, and simply grabbed hold of the rusting latch, giving it such an almighty tug that Kiku could see the muscles in his arms straining, strong hands clutching the handles so hard that the blue veins in his hand stood out from his milky white skin. There was a click, and Artur fiddled with the latch for a few moments in a way that Kiku couldn't quite see. The door stuttered open, creaking loudly with the sound of hinges that hadn't been oiled for decades. Once completely open, it stuck in place, and Arthur must have seen Kiku's surprised face for he muttered "Pneumatics", before stepping into the room, flourishing a single arm sarcastically for Kiku to enter.

Gingerly, Kiku stepped forward into the room, jumping slightly at the noise as the door slammed shut behind him. It was a small, dingy room, bone-chillingly cold air thick with the stench of opium and barbiturates. A stifling layer of smoke caused the area to be bathed in greyish, depressed hue. The walls, if that was what they could be called, were bare, yet rich carpets and rugs littered the ground, covering chairs and crawling up walls, providing some washed out colour to the otherwise monochrome room. There was barely any furniture, only a single table off to one side, holding a single candelabra, the only source of light in the room. The combination of the low lighting and thick, smoky atmosphere gave the room a heady quality; Kiku found himself having trouble thinking, with the stifling nature. This atmosphere could in no way be natural; there was something just... _wrong_ about it. No-one could be this docile in this situation.

But they all seemed so calm, strewn around the room, in various states of undress- seemingly oblivious to the freezing temperatures and the fact that there was a stranger in their midst. He supposed people must come and go around there, but he wondered whether they were able to even notice his presence. Two men, a blond and a brunette were off to one side, heads together, overlong greasy hair tangled and tousled. They were whispering quietly; the blond's shirt was open as he lay, finger in mouth. He occasionally let out a stifled giggle, before being hastily shushed by his companion. Huddled in a corner, barely visible curled underneath a blanket, was another blond. This one was much less vibrant than the other; he was younger even than Kiku: he couldn't be much older than eighteen, curly hair barely visible as he chewed at the sleeve of his shirt. He huddled down in his nest, engrossed in the piece of paper he was holding. Another was darker than the rest, and sat at the table, back stiff and regal, pushing his spectacles up his nose, as he drummed his fingers on the surface, almost as if he was playing an invisible piano. Two more, twins, sprawled on the floor; they all seemed so fascinating, he could have spent all day just...

A pointed cough came from behind him and he turned to find Arthur still standing in the doorway, leaning against the now closed door, wearing a vaguely amused expression and with his arms folded against his scrawny chest.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, raising a single overly large eyebrow. "Having fun looking at the exhibits?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You're practically drooling," Arthur replied, smirk growing wider. "Like what you see, then? I must admit, they're all good specimens, but just forget them. I mean, they don't even give a shit about you. May as well not be here."

Kiku said nothing. He wasn't sure he knew what to say. He wasn't even sure that if he opened his mouth anything would come out.

"You're nothing special," Arthur continued, seemingly oblivious to Kiku's discomfort. "Exotic, sure. I'll give you that much. Must get a lot of things handed to you on a fucking silver platter for that." He scratched his leg, idly, with a single bare foot, and Kiku briefly wondered how on earth he could stand the cold with no shoes. "Well here you won't," he added sourly. "It'll do you well to remember that. Special?" He scoffed. "Nah, you're nothing we haven't seen before. No one's special here. No one."

"I-I'm not sure I understand."

Arthur gave a mirthless chuckle. "We're more of a... lets say buffet, down here. But just forget it. Trust me, you'll learn soon enough." He started moving away again without elaborating, swiftly weaving his way through the room, and Kiku had to practically jog in order to catch up. "C'mon. Your room's down this way."

Kiku followed Arthur through an archway, and down into another series of tunnels, these a lot smaller, narrower. It was a very claustrophobic sensation, as though the sloping walls were squeezing them down as far as they could go. Every now and then there was a room, carved into the tunnel, hidden from view by a partition made of some sort of cloth. The two men walked in a stony silence; neither was particularly willing to talk to the other, until Kiku finally gathered up all of his courage and spoke up, voicing a thought that had been pressing heavily on his mind.

"What did you mean earlier? When you said that we were a buffet?"

"Hmm? Oh, you're still thinking about that?" He paused, as if mulling the question over in his mind. "Put it this way," he finally said. "A lot of the men prefer to pick and choose, rather than have the same one of us twice. It's just a personal preference they have."

"But why?"

"Beats me. Boredom? Dislike of commitment? Maybe they'd rather just try us on and then put us back on the shelf?" All I know is a lot of them take pride in having slept with all of us. Like it's a medal of honour, or something. They just put us back on the shelf. And let's just say that some of us have been on the shelf longer than others."

Kiku looked down at his feet. "Oh," he said quietly. The word echoed in the tunnel, giving it a metallic quality. _Oh...Oh...Oh..._

Arthur glared. "Man up. You're not gonna last more than five minutes at this rate. If you're hoping for a Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet, trust me, it ain't gonna happen. We're prostitutes, we're not meant to find love. We just get down and do it. We're here. And we're stuck. Nothing you can do about it now. None of us care about sob stories."

They had reached the end of the tunnel, where there were two rooms, placed next to each other. In the doorway of the first hung an elaborate tapestry, a tiger, embellished in fancy reds and golds; in the other hung a simple brown piece of fabric, ends frayed from what looked like years of dragging along the cold floor.

Arthur raised a hand lazily towards the cloth. "This one's yours. Enjoy."

He turned away, and left Kiku staring at the blank cloth that hid what was to be his new home. Steeling himself, he pulled it back in one swift movement. The room itself was small, but appeared to be larger than it was thanks to the bareness that came with a lack of furniture. It was filled only by a single bed, with a straw stuffed mattress, and was made even less inviting by the lack of personal effects. It was unwelcoming, to say the least, almost sterile. Kiku sighed, and tossed his bundle of belongings on the bed, yet he did not enter. There. Now it was a home. He felt like he was going to start crying. This was it, he thought. Now is the point at which I have finally been reduced to this.

The anger bubbled inside him before he could stop it. He had always prided himself in being a passive person, never quick to rage or furor. Yet here he was livid, shaking with the force of his fury. In a sudden loss of control, he raised a fist, and hurled it into the wall of the tunnel. It gave a great clang, the vibrations coursing through the metal and Kiku swore, as the place rattled with the force. It was obviously not as well constructed as it had seemed. Dirt from the ceiling rained down on him, coating his only shirt cobwebs, and lightening his hair with the clouds of dust, as though he had suddenly aged thirty years. He stood covered in dirt, shoulders shaking with the effort of holding back his tears.

A noise behind him alerted him to movement, and he turned, wiping his face with his sleeve, and leaving a line of mud on his cheek. Someone was moving in the room next door; the tiger tapestry was being pulled away by a small, gentle finger, almost a caress.

And that was when he saw him.

_"For whoever goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."_


End file.
